


kairos

by MayWilder



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25045717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayWilder/pseuds/MayWilder
Summary: Edmundo Diaz can handle a multitude of things.No, really, he can. He’s proven it, over years of serving in the military and making it home with minimal trauma. He’s suffered through his wife leaving him and later dying. In his time as a firefighter, he’s worked through natural disasters and managed to maintain his composure. He’s had a rig trap him beneath metric tons of mud and water. He’s seen horrible things, nearly lost his son and best friend—nearly lost his own life—and he’s managed to come out the other end stronger.He’s been through a lot of shit, is his point, and he’s always made it through to the other side.He will not throw in the towel because of a scruffy beard on his best friend. It would be fucking ridiculous.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 40
Kudos: 469





	kairos

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be Eddie losing his mind over Buck's beard, inspired by photos of Oliver Stark's scruff that were sent in the Buddie discord. Instead, Eddie is a pining mess. So here we go.

Edmundo Diaz can handle a multitude of things. 

No, really, he can. He’s proven it, over years of serving in the military and making it home with minimal trauma. He’s suffered through his wife leaving him and later dying. In his time as a firefighter, he’s worked through natural disasters and managed to maintain his composure. He’s had a rig trap him beneath metric tons of mud and water. He’s seen horrible things, nearly lost his son and best friend—nearly lost his _own_ life—and he’s managed to come out the other end stronger. 

He’s been through a lot of shit, is his point, and he’s always made it through to the other side. 

He will  _ not _ throw in the towel because of a scruffy beard on his best friend. It would be fucking ridiculous. 

“No,” Lena argues with a loud laugh. “ _ You’re _ fucking ridiculous.”

“I’m losing my mind,” Eddie groans. “I have been through war,  _ actual war _ , and I couldn’t handle the sight of Buck with scruff over  _ snapchat _ .”

Lena looks like she’s enjoying herself way too much. “What did you do?”

Eddie covers his face. 

“Diaz, dude, what did you do?”

He mumbles the answer into his hands. 

“You what?”

“I called out of work so I didn’t have to see him in person!” 

“Jesus fuckin—” Lena slams her beer on the table. “You can’t be serious. You’re a firefighter, and you called out of work because you couldn’t face Buck with a beard?”

“I know,” Eddie says, embarrassment coloring his skin. He feels feverish just at the memory. “But I saw the snapchat, and I knew I couldn’t walk into the station. If I saw him, I’d--”

“You’d do what?”

“Something stupid?”

“That’s a given, you’re an idiot.”

“Hey!” Eddie leans forward on the barstool and drops his head back to the counter. “I’m going through something, and I’m being vulnerable with you. Be nice.”

“Nope.” Lena pops the ‘p’ and pokes at his temple. “Seriously, though, we’re not skipping past the fact that you shirked responsibility because you want to have sex with your best friend. That’s not like you. Someone at least covered your shift, right?”

“ _ Obviously _ , I’m not a bad person,” Eddie replies. “Anderson switched shifts with me, so I didn’t have to work with Buck last week. He told Cap it was for him so there wouldn’t be any weird questions.”

“Pathetic. What are your plans for this week?”

“I’m barely holding back from calling him again.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” she scoffs. “Didn’t you just say you wouldn’t be defeated by The Beard?”

“...Yes.”

Lena punches him on the shoulder, and he raises his head again. “Look here, Diaz—spend tonight wallowing in self-pity, drinking and waxing poetry about the scruff on Buck. Get it out of your system. But tomorrow, you’re gonna go to work, and you’re gonna do your job, and you’re not gonna make an ass of yourself. Then, after your shift, you’ll politely ask Buck if he’d like to return to your house where you will then fuck his brains out and pet that scruffy little beard to your hearts content.”

“You’re an ass, Bosko,” Eddie deadpans. 

“And yet you’re still here.” Lena raises her bottle to him, a small grin on her face. “You have one more night to get it together. You wanna be sober or on the drunk side of buzzed?”

Eddie contemplates it, eyeing Lena and her amusement. Begrudgingly, he reaches for his own bottle and clinks it to hers. 

Drunk side of buzzed it is. 

**)-(**

Lena’s confidence in Eddie’s self control is appreciated, but very misplaced. 

Last week, when Buck snapchatted Eddie with a picture of his growing scruff, Eddie’s heart had stopped in his chest. It took maybe two seconds for him to have his hand in his pants, gripping his own length and stroking himself to the image. He thanked whatever gods existed that the app creators had added the option for taking snaps off the timer, because he spent the next five minutes staring at that image: red lips pulled into a smirk, reddish blonde hair framing his jaw, curls a mess from just waking up. When he imagined kissing Buck, the brand new thought of the hair scratching against his own face made his lips tingle. He closed his eyes and wondered what it would be like to have Buck’s face between his legs, beard rubbing against Eddie’s skin and leaving it red and raw from his time spent there. He wanted that burn, wanted that scratchy feeling of another man’s beard against him. Of  _ Buck’s _ beard against him. 

The thought sent him over the edge and he laid there, a mingled mess of lust and shame over his actions. He thought of Buck that way before, of course, but the ease with which he’d touched himself to nothing but the thought of his best friend’s beard...he felt like a fifteen year old. 

Mixing the deep seated attraction to Buck with his overwhelming love was dangerous, and The Beard made both aspects worse. 

So now Eddie makes the drive to work, fighting with himself on whether or not he can actually do this. It doesn’t even matter if Buck’s shaved by now, the image is imprinted in his brain—Buck with three or four days of not shaving, looking like he just rolled over from waking up. Eddie grips the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white and he aches with want. For years he’s been mostly fine with his and Buck’s relationship (being his best friend is better than risking the possibility of not having him at all), but this new image is something he can’t shake. The thought of sleepy-eyed, bed hair, scratchy beard Buck, rolling over in their bed before Christopher wakes up in the morning...it’s nearly too much for Eddie to handle. 

He feels like screaming as he pulls into the station, and he tries to remember Lena’s words.

_ You’re gonna go to work, and you’re gonna do your job, and you’re not gonna make an ass of yourself. _

“Right,” Eddie tells himself as he puts his car in park. “You’re a grown up, Diaz. You have a child. You have survived war. You were nearly suffocated by mud. You can face Buck with a beard.”

He thinks about the week before, laying in bed in his own mess, the image of Buck still sitting in his right hand. 

His head hits the steering wheel. 

“You’re a fucking mess, Diaz.”

Eddie tries to address his thoughts rationally. Its not as if The Beard has only made its appearance now, right? Eddie recognizes that, remembers plenty of times when he’s seen Buck with a five o’clock shadow or more. He’s also seen Buck in the mornings, gel gone and curls frizzy. He’s spent nights at the Diaz house before, stumbling from the guest room in nothing but boxers to make breakfast for everyone. 

So Eddie knows the domesticity of having Buck around. He should be completely used to the feelings that come with it. The difference is, before...before, those memories weren’t his anchor for living, for fighting his way out of cold and wet and muddy places. The importance of the people in your life and the love you have for them is a lot more pressing when it's the sole thing that saved your life. 

Now, he wants to ask for more and lives in fear of the answer.

Not that he’ll ever say that shit out loud. As far as Lena knows, he wants to fuck Buck. As far as anyone else knows, Buck is his best friend and possibly his part-time coparent. Nobody needs to know about the bone-deep ache that he lives with every day. 

No, those feelings can stay in his sternum, where he carries his emotions. He takes a deep breath, putting everything back in his chest-box, and tells himself he can do this. 

Knuckles rap on the window, and Eddie is certain his heart gives out. 

He looks up to see Buck of all people, brow furrowed in worry and head tilted to the side. He’s forgone the gel today, so those curls are glinting with that reddish tint in the morning sun. That fucking beard is back, looking like it was shaved and then abandoned again. Eddie turns off the car with a pathetic huff as that stupid spike of want shoots through his chest and he has to tamp it down. 

“Hey,” he says, sliding from the car. “What’s up?”

“You looked like you were having a moment.” Buck gestures vaguely to the driver’s seat. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, rough morning with Chris.” The lie slips out before he can help it, guilt with it. “But I’m good now, just had to get it together. Ready to go in?”

“Actually…” Buck looks to the side, how he always does when he’s nervous. “I was wondering if we’re, uh, if _we’re_ good?”

At this point, Eddie is just a pile of guilt. 

“Yeah, man,” he coughs out. “Just been crazy this week, I promise. I’m sorry for being out of it and having to cancel rock climbing.”

“I just wanted to check,” Buck says, voice soft. “I missed you and Chris, and I figured it was possible I did something stupid and didn’t realize, and needed to make sure I hadn’t fucked up anything.”

“No, Buck—” Eddie cut himself off to put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, giving a squeeze. “No, man, you didn’t do anything wrong. We’re good. So good.”

That loveable, puppy dog grin spreads across Buck’s cheeks like Eddie just told him Christmas came early. He slings his arm over Eddie’s shoulders, ever tactile, to lead them into station. It brings the beard right next to Eddie’s face. All he would have to do is lean in, brush his cheek against Buck’s and he would be able to feel the drag of that coarse hair over his skin. Buck is rambling about the craziness he missed from last week, but Eddie can’t hear him. He just nods along as they walk and tries not to feel like an utter moron for wanting to rub his face into Buck’s like some animal. 

Two minutes in, and it’s going to be the longest fucking day of his life. 

**)-(**

It does turn out to be the longest day, but not because of Buck. 

Eddie doesn’t have time to moon over the other man. Call after call comes in for the 118, as if the city is under some sort of curse. If Eddie believed in the planetary influence Buck had recently been obsessed with, he would think there was some major imbalance in the universe. Car crashes follow a jumper, then a drunk guy who falls into a pool. Eddie has half a building fall ten feet from him while he gets knocked on his ass, and he has to watch Buck walk out of a burning building with a little girl whose mother screams for her child until they are reunited. There are close calls all day long, though thankfully no deaths or injury aside from bruising and aching. 

By the time their shift is ending, Buck and Eddie are leaning on each other for support. They stumble into the locker room, Buck bemoaning how much he needs a shower and a massage. 

“And bed,” he says with a yawn. “Maybe I’ll be tired enough to get some sleep.”

Eddie frowns, because this isn’t the first time Buck has mentioned not sleeping well, and he always says its no big deal when Eddie tries to dig deeper. He suspects it's because Buck has to return home by himself, since he always sleeps like a rock Eddie’s house. And, like the stubborn ass he is, Buck hardly ever asks to come over for fear of intruding. 

Eddie has to make it seem like a favor. 

“I know sharing a bed with me isn’t the same as the king sized mattress you got,” Eddie says casually, “But Chris is with abuela tonight. I would appreciate the company if you wanna come over. We could do beer and chinese tonight, and then get Chris in the morning for breakfast.”

“Are you serious, Eds?” Buck pushes off Eddie’s shoulder to give him one of his most blinding smiles. “I can come over tonight?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Eddie says. “You know you’re always welcome, man. Come over tonight, then hang out with Chris tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Buck nods. “Yeah, okay.”

Buck practically bounces to his own locker, digging around for his bag. Eddie tries to hide his own smile, but the fear of not being able to control himself around Buck is vastly outweighed by the pure joy the other man exudes. The energy is even enough to brighten the look on Hen and Chimney’s faces when they stride into the room. 

“Why are you so happy Buckaroo?” Chimney asks. “You haven’t been this chipper all week.”

“It’s cause he thought Eddie dumped him again,” Hen teases. 

Buck’s smile stretches wider. “Can’t be put down, Hen, tease all you want. I’m getting some quality time with my second favorite Diaz, and then tomorrow I get to see Chris.”

Eddie’s chest box nearly explodes. “I’m the second favorite?”

“You’ve met your kid, right? Trumps everyone else, always.”

Eddie has to bury his face in his locker to prevent himself from kissing Buck right there. 

_ Hi, hello, you prioritize my kid over me? Great. Can I suck you off? _

He resists the urge to slam his head into the metal.

By the time that they’re back in civilian clothes and ready to go, Buck has toned the bouncing steps down to a light glide as he moves through the station, saying his goodbyes. Eddie smiles in spite of himself and heads to his own truck. Even though it's going to be hard holding back this evening, he can’t help it—he is looking forward to just being in Buck’s presence after the long day they’ve had. He needs this time with his best friend, to unwind and settle in and just be _Eddie_. 

It’s one of the many reasons Evan Buckley is so wonderful. Eddie can just be Eddie. 

He gets home before Buck, so he goes ahead and orders food while he dumps his dirty clothes in the laundry room. He showers quickly and efficiently, still unable to let himself spend too long in there. Some might think his time in the military would make him appreciate a long shower, but it still feels wasteful or unnecessary. He gets in, washes, gets out. Best of all, it leaves no room for fantasizing about scratchy beards or unfairly muscular arms. 

Small mercies. 

When he walks out of his bedroom, Eddie sees the laundry that was previously on the floor is gone, and hears that the washer is going. His heart warms at how easily Buck falls into their home, throwing clothes in the wash before returning to the living room where he’s sitting with two beers on the coffee table and his phone to his ear. He looks up when Eddie enters, and the smile he’s sending this time isn’t that beautiful, blinding one. No, it’s much softer. It’s a single uptick of the right cheek, a small sigh that seems pleased Eddie’s back in his vicinity. 

It’s the look in his eyes, the relaxed drop of his eyelids and how they look less blue and more grey. That’s the way they always look when Buck is content. 

“Your dad just walked into the room,” Buck is saying, as if he isn’t turning Eddie’s world upside down. “You want to talk to him?”

It registers then that Buck is talking to Christopher, and he snaps out of his love haze long enough to frown and take his spot next to Buck on the couch. He tries to ask if something’s wrong, but Buck puts his hands on Eddie’s forearm and rubs his thumb in soothing circles. 

“Yeah, okay,” Buck continues. “I’ll have my phone nearby us all night, alright? I’m not going anywhere, kid...Okay. Give Abuela a kiss from us. We love you, Christopher. So much. Get some rest. I know. I love you. Goodnight.”

He hangs up and tosses his phone aside. “Chris had a bad dream and was kind of shaken up. Wanted to hear my voice, apparently. Just needed to tell him everything was going to be okay.”

God, Christopher loves Buck enough to the point where he calls him instead of Eddie. If he was thinking reasonably, he would be even more convinced that romance with Buck would be bad because of the potential heartbreak for Chris, but....Eddie doesn’t care. Suddenly, he can’t breathe with how badly he needs to tell Buck he loves him. He’s so exhausted, drained from how much it takes out of him to hold back everything he wants. It gets harder, with these feelings that have been building through every trial they go through, every early morning, late night, and everything in between. He wonders why, after all the pain both of them have suffered through the years, why he can’t look at the man he loves and kiss that stupid scruffy jaw?

Despite knowing he has reasons—their friendship is precious, if it fucks up Chris will be hurt, they work a dangerous job together—he doesn’t care anymore. He’s tired of pulling back and he’s not going to for one more second.

He leans in and lets his forehead drop to Buck’s. The other man sighs and then there’s a heat at Eddie’s hips, as if hands are unsure and waiting to touch. “Eddie, are you…?”

“Evan,” he huffs out. “Don’t ask me if I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Those hands grip his hips then, the skin on skin contact lighting up across Eddie’s nerves. He shivers and drops his lips to Buck’s jaw. The hair on his skin tickles his nose and lips, and Buck sighs like he’s releasing something that’s been built up inside him for a long time. It makes Eddie’s heart sing. 

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want me to kiss you,” he murmurs. “Because I want to, Ev, I really really want to.”

“Kiss me,” Buck says immediately. “God, Eddie, _please—_ ”

That’s enough for Eddie. He tilts his chin up and presses his lips to Buck’s in a kiss that lights him up. He hears Buck whimper at the inhibited contact and wonders if the other man is as overstimulated as he is. Because kissing Buck is like electricity crackling over his nerves, a release of energy that’s been building inside him for as long as he’s known the man. Outside of this feeling, the hands at his hips pulling them flush together and the curve of Buck’s bearded jaw, there is nothing so good, so important. 

“I’m in love with you,” Eddie says the words into Buck’s cheek, dragging his lips across the skin there to make his way towards his jaw, to the corded muscles of his neck. “ _ Dios, mi amor _ , I love you so much, you don’t even know.”

“I never thought—” Buck cuts himself off with a moan as Eddie’s teeth mark up his collarbone. “I told myself I was imagining things because I wanted you so much.”

“No, you weren’t imagining anything.” Eddie hisses as nails find their way under his t-shirt and scratch lightly at the dimples in his back. “I was scared, I didn’t want to say anything and ruin what we have, but I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

“You don’t have to.” Buck pulls him closer, their foreheads dropping together. “You aren’t ruining anything, _this is everything_ , Eddie, I swear.”

Buck falls back, and Eddie is sliding between powerful thighs while he presses Buck into the cushions. Their lips find each other easily again. His best friend tastes like those stupid fruity breathmints he loves, and Eddie licks into his mouth to chase it. Its good, too good, the way Buck rolls up into him and those thighs squeeze around him, like Buck is trying to pull them as close together as he can. Eddie follows easily, hips rocking forward as his hands cup Buck's face. He's unable to do anything but let Buck's arms around his torso stabilize him while they kiss. 

He's under Buck's mercy, he realizes. The other man has been given permission to touch, and he's apparently been holding back as much as Eddie, because his hands are possessive, purposeful in every touch and kiss. Eddie's above him, but Buck’s leading them.

_ I told myself I was imagining things because I wanted you so much.  _

"Take whatever you want," Eddie says, pulling away to nuzzle at Buck's jaw. That fucking beard, scratching against his skin. "It's yours,  _ mi alma _ , it's yours."

Buck whines, low and in the back of his throat. "Edmundo…"

The raw hunger in Buck's voice has Eddie kissing him again, rolling his hips down. He's hard in his sweatpants, but the material is thin enough that he can feel the length of Buck in his sweatpants. The friction is too good, and it's going to be over long before it starts. 

"What do you want, Evan?" Eddie's voice cracks and he drops his head to Buck's shoulder as they continue thrusting against each other. 

Buck's breath is hot in Eddie's ear. "Want your cock in my mouth. That okay?"

"Fucking hell—" Eddie's jaw sets with the effort it takes not to come. "Yes, it's more than okay."

And before Eddie is able to do anything, Buck's pushing back against Eddie so that he can slide to his knees on the floor. He reaches for the backs of Eddie's legs, pulling him to the edge of the sofa and tugging at his sweatpants. Eddie is helpless to do anything but let Buck manhandle him and stare at the ceiling in hope he doesn't burst. 

It's just—Buck is hooking Eddie's legs over his broad shoulders, brushing his lips across his inner thighs. The move is teasing, because they're not kisses, and the beard is creating friction against his skin that has Eddie reeling. 

"Motherfucker, Evan," Eddie grumbles. He watches, annoyed, as Buck only smiles against his skin and continues his attentions to anywhere but the aching cock in front of him. Instead, he's kissing and tasting skin on Eddie's thighs, hips, just below his navel...it’s almost methodical. Intentional. As if this is planned. 

_ Ay Dios mio _ . Buck has thought about this enough to have a plan. 

Eddie looks to the ceiling for strength as images of Buck touching himself floods his brain. Instead, he grounds himself in the moment by reaching down to scratch at the base of Buck’s skull, watching with pleasure as he shivers. He files that away for later and keeps his gaze locked on blue eyes looking up at him through his eyelashes. Buck’s face is flushed, a thin sheen of sweat at his brow and his lips glistening as they stretch over the head of Eddie’s cock. It's a sight that has Eddie gasping for air. He looks so good, hands keeping Eddie’s hips planted into the cushion as he takes as much as he can. 

“Evan, god, oh fuck.” Eddie groans, deep and in his chest, while Buck hums around him. His skin is humming with electricity, sparking every time that fucking beard scratches against his thighs. The combination has Eddie’s breath fighting its way out, his entire being focused on the man between his legs. Red lips shining, cheeks hollowed, eyes wet every time they flutter open. Eddie is hopeless, fingers trailing through Buck’s hair and birthmark. 

“Evan,  _ angel _ , I’m not going to last—”

Buck ignores him and presses his hands harder into Eddie’s hips, head bobbing further down. His tongue traces a vein on the underside of Eddie’s cock, the head of it hitting the back of his throat and Eddie, Eddie sees _stars_ , he sees the _fucking galaxies_. Crying out, he comes with Buck’s hands on him and his name on his lips. 

When he arrives back on earth, Buck is kissing his thighs and hips adoringly, like he’s glad to be where he is. Eddie murmurs his name, reaching for him and threading fingers through his hair. When Buck rises up, they kiss, slowly and sweetly, as Buck trembles.

“Thank you,” Buck is whispering. “I’ve wanted–for so long...I know I said it before, but Eddie, I need you to know.”

Eddie cups his best friend’s cheek, stroking his thumb against red lips. Buck is  _ crying _ . “What is it, _mi amor_? What’s wrong?”

“You are...everything to me.” Buck blinks, and a tear falls. “You, and Chris, and this life we’ve somehow created, it’s my world. And after everything I did, everything we’ve gone through, I couldn’t believe you’d want me, or-or love me. So for this, for whatever this is, just...thank you.”

Eddie literally cannot comprehend what Buck is saying. “After everything we’ve gone through, I love you _more_. Please hear me. I love you _so much_. I thought I couldn’t love anyone as much as Chris, but you are my family, my home. The ‘this’ that we are is forever, Evan.”

Buck blinks again, and there are too many tears falling from his eyes. Eddie hugs him close, hand cradling his head and the other rubbing soothing circles into his back. Buck’s arms wrap around Eddie’s torso tightly, as if he thinks Eddie’s going to fade away. He clearly is going to need something more as time moves on. The whole mess of their lives that came after that goddamn truck clearly did a lot of damage—but Eddie has to believe they can fix it, move past it. That their time together is going to be worth the pain they’ve gone through to get to this point. 

For now, though? They need rest. 

“We’re gonna clean up,” he says. “And then we’re gonna go to sleep. Then, tomorrow, we’re going to pick up our son, go to breakfast, and have a family day. Does that sound like an okay plan?”

“The best,” Buck murmurs, pulling back, and  _ Dios, _ could that smile light up the world. “It sounds like the best plan."


End file.
